


Where the Tides Bring Us

by Therapeutic_Steter



Series: Prompt Fics [23]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Creature Stiles, M/M, Merman Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 08:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12678003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Therapeutic_Steter/pseuds/Therapeutic_Steter
Summary: platypusesrneat asked: Merman! Stiles entrances Peter with his voice...but Peter entrances Stiles with his looks! Plus Peter bringing Stiles books and reading to him pretty please! Thank you!!





	Where the Tides Bring Us

Peter supposed if there was ever a time to count his losses and bow out, it would be after having his ass handed to him by a teenaged werewolf and when talks of sticking him in Eichen House were circling. He quietly packed what few things he'd need, emptied out the vault of anything that was his, and drove away in the darkness of night with no intention of ever returning.

Peter drove for a while, stopping only for a few minutes at a time, refueling on gas or food or to stretch his legs for a minute. He wanted to be as far as possible from Beacon Hills. When he hit the coast, he started north, crossing into Oregon and eventually Washington. He started taking in the scenery, driving a bit more lazily now, and even found himself eyeing a few of the nicer homes on the coastline. He stopped in front of a ‘For Sale’ sign without intent, staring at the sign sticking out of what looked to be an overgrown driveway. He frowned, looking down the barren road before pulling to the side and getting out of his car. He walked through the tall grass curiously, enjoying a moment to just breathe in nature. The woods were thick, but not dreary. There was an almost mystical presence here and Peter's wolf perked, like it was waiting for something. Peter hummed to himself, walking deeper onto the property before cresting over a hill. His breath caught as he finally saw the house.

It was a simple cottage almost, but it was situated right on the cliffside. He could hear the crashing waves and walked closer to look down, seeing the craggy rocks below. The tide had cut into the rocks below and a small sandbar was there. Peter grinned when he spotted the rickety wooden stairs that were precariously placed on the cliffside leading down into the alcove. He turned back to look at the house, breathing in the scent of the ocean, and thought that maybe this would be a good place to restart.

…

The paperwork as easy. The property had been for sale for years and Peter had a cash offer, as is. He could do his own repairs. Plus the house came with ten acres of land, so he'd be able to run among the trees on full moons without worry. And the small town was about fifteen miles away, so he'd have plenty of privacy too. He was admittedly a bit excited to begin a new chapter.

He left the courthouse after signing the paperwork with the previous owner and went straight to the hardware store, filling his car with a hammer, nails, screwdrivers, and whatever else tools he thought he would need. He would inventory the house before coming back for the actual supplies, but he wanted to get the tools out of the way to cut back on trips. He also went to the grocery store, ignoring curious looks as he stocked up on non-perishables. He hoped it wouldn't take much to get the electricity working again, but he wasn't holding his breath.

The house was just as perfect when he saw it the second time as it had been the first. He smiled to himself as he stepped through the door, noting the creaking from the old hinges and knowing he'd need some WD40. He walked further into the house, trailing his fingers through the dust and feeling something within him settle. This could be home. He could feel it in his bones, his wolf rumbling in pleasure. It would take time, but he could make this a home.

…

Peter wiped at his brow, continuing to nail the piece of plywood to the roof. There were leaks, predictably, but it hadn't rained thankfully and he wanted to get this fixed before it did any more damage. He found he liked working with his hands, seeing tangible proof of his progress. Talia’s husband had been a woodcrafter, oh so long ago, and he now could see the allure.

Peter was just readying another nail when he heard it. It was a voice, but it was different than anything Peter had ever heard. It harmonized with the waves and was difficult to differentiate from them. Peter put down the hammer, creeping off the roof and walking closer to the cliffside before peering down.

Peter's breath caught. Lazing among the rocks was a merman, bronze scales catching the light beautifully. The man was singing, voice an upbeat lilt even as the waves crashing around him. His tail swished in the air, flinging water drops around him, and the merman seemed to be in good spirits. Peter crept just a bit closer, slowly leaning down to sit and watch the creature. He couldn't help but be drawn to the merman’s voice, swaying to the tune and unintentionally humming along.

On accident, he got too loud. Instantly the merman flipped over, wide amber eyes focusing on him before he slipped under the waves silently. Peter frowned, crawling forward to look down into the surf.

“I won't hurt you or anything,” Peter spoke down to the alcove, wondering if the merman was really gone or if he was perhaps watching under the waves. Peter flashed his eyes, letting his shift cover of his features. “Your secret’s safe with me,” he promised, before standing and heading back to the house to continue the repairs.

...

It was only a few days later before he heard the merman again. He was nailing a shutter back into the window when the singing started. He stopped for a moment, listening to the pleasant sound, before putting down his tools and heading towards the cliff.

When Peter looked down, the merman was already looking up, focusing on him. It was the first real good look Peter had gotten of the other. He looked young, but Peter had no way of knowing how mermen aged. He smiled and it was with too many teeth, all sharper and thinner than a human’s. He had patches of bronze scales decorating his upper half, but the real attention getter was his long tail. It was nearly three times the length of his upper half, sleek and shining in the daylight.

Not one to be outdone, Peter shifted into beta shift, eyes flaring bright blue as he returned the toothy grin with his own fangs. The merman trilled excitedly, eyes bright as he used his arms to pull himself just a little higher on the rocks. He was watching Peter absolutely riveted and Peter wondered if he was as much a marvel as the merman was to him.

“I'm a werewolf,” Peter spoke, moving to the edge of the cliff and sitting. He could perhaps make it down the half-rotten stairs and sit closer, but seeing as he had only limited knowledge on mermen and a lot of stories painted them as man-eaters, he'd rather keep his distance and stay on his own turf for now. 

The merman made a few clicking sounds, shrill almost like a dolphin, before he frowned, reaching up to rub at his throat. Peter watched, fascinated, as the merman’s gills fluttered at his throat before sealing shut. The merman grinned again.

“Hello,” the merman spoke. His voice was magnetic, even with just a simple greeting. “I did not know a landwalker had come. This area has been abandoned for quite some time.”

“Yes, I just bought the house,” Peter said, waving to the house behind him. “I didn't mean to steal your sunning spot.”

The merman trilled again and the sound rolled like waves, tinkling like water. “So you are the new liver here, yes? You will be staying?”

Peter nodded. “That's the plan.”

“Wonderful!” The merman exclaimed. “I have never seen a...werewolf, you said? You are a different kind of landwalker then? Other, like me?”

Peter couldn't help but be charmed at his enthusiasm, smiling without meaning to. “A werewolf is part human and part wolf. A wolf is…” he frowned in thought. “It has four legs and fur. It's a top predator, and many humans would be scared if they learned werewolves are real.”

The merman nodded, looking even more curious. “Humans are scared of many things,” he said with a voice beyond his looks. “Anything different, they fear and strive to kill, to study.” He looked away, tail splashing angrily. “They cannot accept the way things are, want to control things beyond them.”

Peter thought it sounded like this merman had had a couple run-ins with hunters, not that he was going to poke at that wound. He understood all too well the hatred in humans for the supernatural.

“Perhaps you could show me a wolf?” The merman asked, looking up. “Landwalkers have...paper things with pictures? They cannot last in water, but you could show me here, in air?”

Peter found himself nodding before he'd given it much thought. “Yes, I could show you a picture of a wolf,” he agreed.

The merman smiled and Peter noticed that his finned ears wiggled slightly. It was adorable even with his frightening teeth and otherworldly eyes.

“Very good. I will meet you with next sun come, werewolf.”

“Peter.” He called out. “My name is Peter.”

The merman hummed and even that was melodious. “Peter,” he said, voice smooth with charm. “Yes. I think that. I am called,” the merman broke off into a series of clicks, hisses, and sharp whines, unintelligible to Peter's ears. He frowned.

“St...iles?” He tried, feeling the clumsiness in his tongue.

The merman laughed joyfully. “I have never had a landwalker given name. I like that one. Stiles,” he tried, still smiling happily. “I will keep that one.”

Peter nodded, still a bit dazed at the entire exchange. Stiles was a flash of brilliance, enchanting and yet dangerous all the same. Peter felt mesmerized.

“Til next sun, Peter,” Stiles said, waving his tail with a quick flick before he slipped under the waves. Peter watched the surf until late that evening. He thought he could still hear Stiles’ laughter.

…

“Wolves are cute,” Stiles said, looking at the book Peter had brought. Peter had decided if he was going to do this, might as well go all the way, and had made the perilous climb earlier that day down to the sandbar. Not much later, Stiles had come crawling onto the land, grinning with his too many teeth and pulling himself easily across the sand. His arms were surprisingly tone and Peter was sure they held a great level of strength, to be able to maneuver his body above land so easily. His tail was even more intimidating this close, the length of it alone easily matching Peter a time and a half. Stiles had found his fascination entertaining, flicking his fins this way and that to catch the light while Peter watched riveted. Peter had returned the gesture though, shifting to his beta shift and back quite a few times before Stiles’ enthralled eyes.

“They're ferocious,” Peter denied. “Not cute.”

“Very cute,” Stiles argued, smirking like the little shit he was proving to be. “Giant Squid are ferocious. Pregnant Great Whites are too. Wolves are…cuddly looking.” He flipped the page, frowning. “What does this say?” He asked, showing Peter the page of words.

“It's about their diets,” Peter said. “I borrowed this from the library in town since it was short notice. I wasn't about to bring my phone close to the ocean.”

Stiles looked at his curiously, blinking. “I have no idea what half of what you just said is. Library? Phone? What are those?”

Peter guess he should've expected that. It wasn't like someone who lived under the sea would have a reason to know what a library or a phone was. “A library is a building where you can borrow books for a short time. A phone is something you can use to call other people, looking up pictures and things, or just stay connected with people, but it uses electricity and if it gets wet it can stop working.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, nodding in understanding.  “That sounds interesting. We don't have anything like phones in my tribe, but we do have a Center. It's like the main base in my home current, where we store tools and things that we find so that everyone in the tribe can use them. It sounds sort of like your library.”

Peter hummed, honestly fascinated. Stiles glanced over at him. “Read this to me?” He asked, handing the book to Peter. “And show me the words as you read them?”

“Of course,” Peter agreed, moving to lay on his stomach beside the merman to make it easier for him to see. Stiles wiggled closer, his skin brushing against Peter's. He was smooth and damp, not slimy like a fish out of water, but he definitely had a coating wherever his scales were. His bare skin was pale and flawless, interspersed with beauty marks that drew Peter's attention and made him want to trace them across the other's skin. Stiles felt cold, temperature obviously regulated to be lower than a normal human. It was especially a difference when compared to Peter's own temperature, what with being a werewolf.

As Peter read the page, he followed along with his finger, pausing whenever Stiles asked him to repeat an unfamiliar word over and over. He seemed enthralled by the letters and the sounds they made just as he had been with Peter's shift. The merman was a curious thing, that was for sure.

“You should bring another book next sun,” Stiles said as they finished for the night. He smiled over at Peter leaning against the werewolf’s side. “It was interesting to see the landwalkers’ writing. I’ve seen books before, but they always break apart under the water and the writing fades.”

“I’ll bring another,” Peter promised without thought, genuinely having enjoyed spending the time with the merman. Plus, it was a merman! Even for Peter, mermen where things of legends, like a fairytale, and there was very little knowledge about them out there. To meet one in the flesh…Peter was still reeling with it all. “Is there something in particular you’d like to learn about?”

Stiles smiled with bright eyes like Peter had offered him the moon. “I want to know everything about the land. The creatures you have that are not in the depths. The food, cloth coverings, games, _trees_.” He paused, breathing excitedly. “ _Anything_ ,” he stressed again, like Peter might’ve forgotten.

Peter couldn’t help but grin fondly. “I think I can find you something,” he said, making a mental note to check out the children’s encyclopedia from the library, the one that included pictures of everything. It’d be perfect for someone wanting to see everything the land had to offer.

“You are kind,” Stiles said, leaning against his side closely. He smiled, closing his eyes adorably. “I had thought about killing you, but I think I won’t do that now.” Peter stiffened, eyes widening. Stiles laughed.

“That…was a joke, right?” Peter asked.

Stiles tilted his head curiously. “Do you want me to kill you?”

Peter coughed, shaking his head. “No, I just…was that seriously your plan?”

Stiles shrugged. “Originally. I killed the last two landwalkers that owned this area. This is my favorite sun spot and I can’t keep it if landwalkers try to take it. But you’re Other, like me. You won’t try to imprison me or sell me or cut me open to look at my innards, whatever humans do.”

Peter eyed his teeth, his claws, his large and powerful tail. When he met Stiles’ eyes again, the merman was smirking, eyes a bright supernatural gold that shown brighter than a beta shift’s and were accompanied by dark sclera. Then Stiles blinked and his eyes were back to their warm amber and plain white sclera, though Peter could still see the coldness within them. He fought back a shiver. He had no doubt that if Stiles wanted to kill him, he could. The merman held a strength and power beyond anything Peter had every encountered.

“Duly noted,” he muttered. Stiles laughed again and Peter couldn’t help but be drawn by the sound.

Stiles’ ear flicked and he frowned, looking out towards the waves. He glanced at the sun which was almost touching the ocean. “I need to go; my pod hunts with the moon and the Center is a bit of a swim from here,” Stiles said, turning back to Peter. “Until next sun,” he said, nudging Peter with his shoulder casually. Then he easily maneuvered himself back into the surf, flicking his tail out towards Peter and splashing the man a little before trilling in goodbye and slipping under the waves.

Peter shook his head, chuckling lightly. It would seem he may have met his match.

…

“It’s…steak?” Stiles asked, looking at the meat curiously. “That’s from…?”

“Cows,” Peter provided.

“And those are those big black and white things you showed me. The things that humans raise for food. They’re cute as well.”

Peter sighed. “Every land animal is not cute,” he denied. “And cows can be other colors than black and white, but yes, those are the ones.”

Stiles studied the meat for a moment longer, squishing it in his fingers and sticking a claw through the middle before nibbling on it. His eyes widened before he messily tore into the rest. Peter grinned. He knew he’d made a good decision in bringing steak for the predator to try.

“I like steak,” Stiles decided, licking his lips before washing his hands off in the surf. “You should bring more next time. Like five. Or ten.”

Peter laughed. “You freeloader, I’m not supplying you with a whole cow.”

Stiles giggled and Peter was charmed by the sound. “Never hurt to try.” He winked cheekily. Peter rolled his eyes, shoving Stiles into an oncoming wave. The merman sputtered, startled at having water crash into him when he’d been using his lungs to breathe air, before locking on to Peter. The look he gave with all shark and Peter scrambled to stand and get away.

Stiles was quick, even on land. He snatched Peter’s ankle, dragging the wolf across the sand and into the tide. Peter rolled out of his hold, claws digging into the dirt and pulling himself up. Stiles laughed, pushing against the ground and fucking _flying_ through the air before landing next to Peter, soaking Peter completely with his splash. Peter huffed, sending him an unimpressed look.

“You started it,” Stiles reminded him, sliding closer and brushing Peter’s wet hair up off his forehead dotingly. “Don’t challenge a merman to a water fight, silly wolf,” he said, grinning and leaning forward to brush their noses together.

Peter hummed, returning the nuzzle on instinct before he paused to truly consider their closeness. Stiles seemed unperturbed by it, following Peter’s jaw with the bridge of his nose, nestling behind Peter’s ear. Peter wondered when he became okay with something as sharp as Stiles’ teeth so near his throat.

“You should come swim with me,” Stiles murmured, lips brushing against Peter’s skin.

Peter hummed in acknowledgment, mind considering that. It wasn’t that long ago that Stiles had admitted to initially planning to kill him. It had already been proven that the merman had the advantage if it came to a fight anywhere near the water. Peter would be completely and totally at his mercy if he was in the water.

“Trust me,” Stiles said, pulling away to meet his gaze.

“Okay,” Peter agreed, going with his gut as he tended to do when Stiles was around. Stiles grinned, sliding back into the waves and reaching out for Peter to join him. Peter stood, pulling his shirt off and tossing it further up the bank before stripping his jeans as well. He walked into the surf in his boxers, accepting Stiles’ clawed hand and letting the merman pull him further from shore.

Stiles swam smoothly, gliding through the waves and easily keeping them both over the surface without Peter even having to do much. Stiles pressed close and Peter could feel his tail’s movements under the water against his legs, the powerful muscle moving back and forth steadily. Stiles’ arms wrapped around Peter’s middle, and the wolf wondered just want he’d gotten himself in to.

“You’re so tense,” Stiles teased, leaning forward to nuzzle under his chin. “Scared?”

“More just aware of the power you hold in this situation,” Peter admitted reluctantly.

Stiles hummed, nipping at the skin of his throat. “Think I’ll drown you?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Peter said.

“Then why’d you come out here with me?” Stiles murmured.

“I can’t seem to tell you ‘no’,” Peter admitted, hands curling around Stiles and pressing his lips against Stiles’ shoulder.

They were quiet for a moment, just floating together. Peter didn’t feel afraid, even while so completely at the mercy of another. It was Stiles and that made all the difference.

Peter watched the sun moving down behind Stiles, almost touching the horizon. “Am I your hunt tonight?” He asked, partially teasing and partially serious, wondering if this was perhaps going to be his last night on earth. He didn’t see the point in fighting it either way; it wasn’t like he had anything waiting for him. His life had quickly become centered on the merman from the moment they’d met.

“You know what you said once about werewolves and packs?” Stiles asked. Peter nodded. “Will you answer one last question for me?”

“Anything,” Peter promised.

“Why are you alone, Peter?”

Peter’s breath shuddered out of him and he hid his face against Stiles throat. “I didn’t trust them, didn’t like them, couldn’t control them, and couldn’t beat them. So I left.”

Stiles pressed his lips just behind his jaw, lightly nibbling on his earlobe. “This will be the last sun I will return to the land for a while,” Stiles informed him. “My pod is moving for the yearly change in the waters and it’ll be almost six of you landwalkers’ months before we return.”

Peter stiffened, eyes widening even as he clutched harder to the merman. Fear ran through him at the thought of being alone for that long, of having found companionship only to have it leave him again. Stiles didn’t pull away, instead holding him tighter as well.

“Why are you just now telling me this?” Peter asked, and he would forever deny how his voice cracked with emotion.

“Because I’m giving you a choice,” Stiles said. “I can bring you back to shore and you can continue on as you are. I will return with the currents when the tide permits and will never speak of this offer again.”

“Or?” Peter was scarcely willing to breathe as a tentative hope bloomed within him.

“Or,” Stiles continued, “You can start a whole new life with me. You will never be able to return to the land, but you will always have a home.”

“You can change people into mermen?” Peter asked in disbelief. After being abandoned and traded and forgotten too many times to count, the idea that someone might want to keep him made his heart ache with want.

“It’s a painful process,” Stiles admitted. “We must kiss under the waves—the magic is in my saliva—but it won’t change you until you are fit for the sea.”

“What does that mean?” Peter was almost scared to ask.

“You’ll drown,” Stiles said simply, pulling away to look into Peter’s eyes seriously. “Your lungs will fill with water and I’ll take you to our Center, which is deep, deeper than landwalkers go. The pressure there hurts landwalkers. It breaks the bones of humans, but for a werewolf it won’t. It will still feel like your every bone is being compressed though, shifting. Changing. Then your skin will meld and scales and fins will grow. It will take two suns.”

“I have felt pain beyond what you could imagine before,” Peter admitted. “I think I could handle a little drowning and bone crushing.”

Stiles chuckled, sliding his nose along Peter’s affectionately.

“You know this will work for werewolves? You’re positive?” Peter asked, closing his eyes and just breathing in Stiles, their lips only inches apart.

“Jackson, a member of my pod, used to be a werewolf,” Stiles said. “Lydia sung to him, and he followed her under the waves. She saw something in him and changed him instead of letting him die. I would not suggest this on a whim or trust in a myth,” Stiles assured him.

Peter shakily exhaled, mind whirling.

“You will lose your wolf though,” Stiles added almost hesitantly. “Jackson was…upset about that, even though he’s mostly gotten over it now.”

Peter’s wolf whined. He wondered what his life would be life, without his wolf. He’d never lived a moment without it, couldn’t even fathom it. The idea was…disconcerting.

But he thought of Stiles, of what he’d lose. His remaining family wanted nothing to do with him. Beacon Hills was lost to him forever. It’d been months since Peter had spoken to anyone other than Stiles beyond answers to questions like ‘Paper or plastic?’ He was a stranger in town and made no effort to be otherwise. He was alone, an omega, and no doubt he’d slowly lose his mind without Stiles there to anchor him. Stiles might return in six months, but Peter might not be there, driven mad and long gone or perhaps even killed by a hunter.

And maybe it was what he needed. His wolf had always compelled him to hunt for more, to strive for more power. He’d never been happy playing the perfect beta, even while under his sister’s rule. This could be the fresh start he needed, the acceptance and home he wanted.

The sun finally touched down of the horizon and started to dip under. Peter shivered as the night grew colder, starting to affect even him.

“I need to know your choice, Peter.”

Peter cupped the side of Stiles’ face, looking at him. Stiles’ eyes were glowing and the sclera were dark again. His irises glowed brighter as the sun continued to slip under the horizon and Peter brushed his thumb across Stiles’ cheek.

“Take me with you,” he pleaded. “Please.”

Stiles beamed at him, and he was absolutely beautiful. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Peter’s lips. He wrapped his arms around Stiles’ neck, fighting his body’s nature as Stiles dipped them under the surface. Stiles’ tongue traced his lips, coaxing him to open to him. Water seeped into his mouth and Stiles’ tongue danced with his own. Stiles hummed, moving to swim on his back with Peter held close as they headed towards Stiles’ pod’s Center. Peter’s lungs started begging for air, and Peter tried to keep from freaking out. Stiles’ hands explored his body before sliding down to his waist and dipping under his boxers’ waistband. He pushed the cloth down and Peter kicked it off, still desperately kissing Stiles and trying to keep from making a dash for the surface. His body was screaming at him, his wolf snarling and fighting, but Stiles licked at his lips before pulling away. His eyes were the only thing Peter could make out in the darkness of the ocean.

“ _You’ll start feeling it soon,_ ” Stiles spoke. His voice was different, even more melodious here underwater. “ _It’s okay if you struggle. Drowning isn’t exactly natural, but I won’t let you go,_ ” Stiles promised, squeezing him as if to demonstrate. “ _I’m going to get us to the Center now. Hold on if you can,_ ” Stiles said, grinning cheekily. His tail moved like it had a life of its own and they picked up speed beyond anything Peter could’ve managed himself. Peter was shaking, unable to keep his body still, pain compressing his lungs. He felt the pressure increase as Stiles drug him deeper until he couldn’t hold it in, gasping out the last of the previous oxygen in his lungs and sucking in a lungful of saltwater.

It burned. Peter choked, tears leaking out even though they were lost in the ocean. Drowning was a different kind of pain from burning, but it seemed to have the same pain response. Stiles hadn’t faltered in his hold or his pace, even when Peter started convulsing in his arms.

“ _You’ll be okay,_ ” Stiles promised him, kissing his temple chastely, but everything hurt too much for him to focus. “ _You may black out for a little, but that’s probably a gift in disguise. The worst of it will hopefully finish up before you wake again._ ” Peter tried to grab at Stiles but his fingers were clumsy, his hold weak. “ _I promise I won’t leave you,_ ” Stiles said, seeming to have read his mind anyways. His last view before slipping under was of the dark water and Stiles’ shining eyes.

…

When Peter’s eyes fluttered upon, he sucked in a breath, shivering at the odd fluttering in his neck. He reached up to rub at the skin but another hand took his before he could touch. Stiles came into his vision, eyes their bright gold.

“ _Hello_ ,” Stiles said, smiling. “ _How do you feel?_ ”

“ _Odd,_ ” Peter admitted, before blinking in wonder at his own voice. “ _Wha…How…_ ”

Stiles giggled. “ _You’ll get use to it,_ ” he assured him. He glanced to Peter’s legs. “ _Look._ ”

Peter looked down, eyes widening as he took in the impressive tail sprouting from his waist. His hands went to touch the scales and he stared at the claws there too, so different than his wolves’. Small areas of his skin were covered with scales, just as Stiles’ upper body was, and they were all varying shades of blue.

“ _They match your eyes_ ,” Stiles said, holding up a broken piece of mirror that must’ve fallen in the depths at some point. Peter looked at his reflection, startled to see the bright blue that shown back. It was brighter than his wolf’s eyes had ever been and he, too, now had the black sclera framing them. Peter looked back down at his tail, getting a shiver down his spine as it moved under his gaze.

“ _It took Jackson a few human weeks before he got used to it,_ ” Stiles said. “ _So don’t worry if it feels weird at first._ ”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Peter breathed, looking back at the merman with awe. “Thank you,” he stressed.

Stiles swam forward, cupping his face and kissing him gently. “ _Thank_ you _, Peter,_ ” he said against his lips. Peter reached out and pulled him back, kissing his deeper. Stiles giggled and the sound still sounded like bells to Peter’s ears.

**Author's Note:**

> Send me a prompt on [tumblr](https://therapeutic-steter.tumblr.com/)!


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